Fluffy-Wuffy Collection of One-Shots
by Lyricalyrics
Summary: So, yeah. Basically the title- a collection of fluffy-wuffy, cheesy-wheezy, lovey-dovey one shots about all of our favorite characters. Kind of suck-ish, but this is basically the result you get out of typing a story at 12:00 at night, so, yeah. Hope you enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

It seemed like he'd never notice her.

_Of course he wouldn't, _a nasty voice in her ear hissed. _He's the Dark Lord- he can do so much better than _you, _you're just his servant. _

She didn't want to face the fact that _he wasn't capable of love._

It was unhealthy, her obsession. He was very ugly- his scalp was a sickly white, he had slits for nostrils, his eyes were blood red. But he was still, somehow, beautiful, even though he was ugly.

She knew she could fawn over him for centuries- it wouldn't matter. He wouldn't care. But she'd always be his loyal servant, and he'd always be the king who wasn't capable of love.

She could kill, could murder until there was nobody left except for them and they were forced to 'mate' to preserve human race, but he wouldn't do it- _what would he see in you? _The voice in her head would hiss, but she'd rather die than accept the truth.

Because she was always his, and he'd always be hers.

She suspected the tale was quite ironic- the servant girl falling in love with the one of noble blood, and she thought it was even more pathetic that the maid or noble usually died at the end. She didn't care, though- she wouldn't care.

Even when his eyes were bloody red and so cold they could shatter to bits, she'd pick up the pieces.

Even when he was so thin he looked like a skeleton with a little flesh, she'd nourish him until he was as fat as a Muggle.

Even when his lips would curl into a cruel sneer, she'd be longing to touch them with her own.

So tragic was the tale- the servant girl falling in love with the king who was capable of no love. And yet she'd always be his, and he'd always be hers.

Forever.

_Beautiful, _he'd try to tell himself. _Beautiful red hair so much like your mother's, bright brown eyes so much like your father's. _

But somehow, his love for her blew out like a tiny flame- one moment it would be so strong it'd be a forest fire, and then only a tiny spark would remain until it dwindled and died.

Light hazel eyes, bloody red hair. Beautiful, he supposed. And yet she was never, really.

He found himself looking at the bossy girl he'd met from so long ago, with her bushy chocolate brown hair and intelligent brown eyes. He found himself staring at her lips as she talked, found himself drowning in her melting chocolate eyes as they locked onto his own green ones.

She was the princess, and he was her knight in shining armor. Romeo and Juliet.

But then Paris, their best friend, came and fell in love with Juliet. And so they'd both need to drink the poison and die to be together, right?  
It was a fantasy, one that would never happen. And yet he seemed to be falling out of love with the girl with the flaming red hair, and found himself falling back in with the girl with the flashing brown eyes.

Yet how could she be her Romeo if she didn't want to be his Juliet? Paris was a much better, much more acceptable match, though he knew she longed for her true Romeo.

_It's me, I'm him, _he could scream all he wanted, but she'd always be so oblivious. And yet, through the wet obliviousness, he'd feel the flame flicker in the dark damp oblivion, and soon it'd turn into a forest fire, so much like it did with the girl with the flaming red hair. And he was sure this one wouldn't go out.

_Womanizer _was the first word that came to her head when she thought of Sirius Black.

That and _Man Whore, Asshole, Dickhat, _and _Attention Seeker. _But then the forbidden words would pop out of nowhere- _Charming, hilarious, handsome, beautiful. _The last one she was sure of, even though he'd laugh if she ever said it out loud. He truly was, though, with his steely gray eyes and rumpled brown hair.

Of course, his lips were also a very _delicious _feature too.

The longing coursed through her veins, getting stronger with each pump, while the hate would burn in her head. _Which was more right- her mind or her heart?_

Lily would roll her eyes and tell her, _Of course the mind's better, it has your better intentions, while your heart will betray you._

And Alice would tell her, _Lily's full of bull, of course you should pick your heart- it moves out of impulse, but it holds the strongest thing the mind will never have: Love._

What would she pick: Brains or Love?

She could go trying to convince herself all day Sirius Effing Black was a bully- not to mention a complete dickhead- but she knew in her heart that she loved him so much she'd die from the pain of it.

It sounded all so cliché: The nerdy shy girl developed a crush on the handsome, haughty popular kid. Like something out of a cheesy 1930s movie or something. But, even though it was completely dumb, she always did love him.

The problem was, he'd never love her back.

_You're amazing, Harry,_ they said.

So why didn't he feel amazing? Why did he feel like he wanted to crawl in a corner and die?

They all said that he was perfect. He wasn't, though. Not in the least. Hermione was the perfect one. He was a little better than Ron, and a little worse than Hermione. It always seemed that way- first Hermione, then himself, and then Ron.

_Every effing time._

The-Boy-Who-Lived; it seemed like such a wonderful title, so grand and beautiful. And yet, it really wasn't. Due to his mother's brave sacrifice, he survived the Killing Curse and made one of the most evil wizards in the world disappear. But he was nothing special, really.

_Shaggy black hair that fell all over the place, large green eyes, pale skin, a lightning-shaped scar on his forehead. _He wasn't beautiful, nor was he very talented. He wasn't a bookworm in the least, and he wasn't too talented in the creative department, either.

_The-Boy-Who-Lived _was just a title to cling onto, to chant like a mantra. In truth, he was just Harry Potter, the boy who lived in the cupboard under the stairs. He was just Plain Harry- he always was, he was just a face you'd see on the street and forget about three seconds later.

So why did everyone think that Harry Potter was amazing? He wasn't- not in the least. He would never be The-Boy-Who-Lived in his mind- he'd just be Plain Ol' Harry until he expired and died.

The-Boy-Who-Lived was a fake. He was always a fake. He was only Plain Harry, the boy who survived. And that was good enough for him.

**So, guys, what'd you think? I know it's a bit rusty and cheesy, but rusty and cheesy are a surprisingly tasty combonation, now that I think about it! Anyways, I've got a game for you: You guess who I'm writing about, and I'll tell you who it is in the next chapter. And **_**PLEASE **_**don't worry- I'm not going to do all this cheesy-wheezy, lovey-dovey stuff every chapter. **

**Love, hugs, and all that jazz,**

**Lyricalyrics**


	2. Hurt, Love, and even more hurt

Why was she always so sad all the time?

It was embarrassing, really. She lost two boyfriends in two years- one died, and one was the Boy-Who-Lived. Talk about your bad breaks.

She always watched him stare at Ginny, trying hard to swallow the lump in her throat as she instantly turned away and tried not to cry. And then he yelled at her for being sad about her dead boyfriend, so maybe it wasn't all that bad. Maybe it was for the best.

But even though her mind repeated the thoughts like a bloody mantra, she knew in her heart that it wasn't true. She still loved him, and the sad part was he didn't love her back.

She could always get new boyfriends, yeah. But none would be Harry again, none would be the 'effing Boy-Who-Lived, none would be her freaking ex-boyfriend she knew and loved. She admitted she was a bit weepy when they got together, but she just lost _Cedric Diggory- _what'd he expect, she'd go around singing at the top of her lungs and skipping like an idiotic schoolgirl?

And yet she learned to love his bluntness, learned to love his complete obliviousness at how girls functioned. And right when she did, he broke up with her.

And tore her into a million, tiny little pieces while he was at it.

She knew it was wrong.

But she didn't care.

It would be a horrible scandal when it got out_**-Fifth-year-student Rachel Ariana Parks caught snogging with Professor Remus Lupin!**_ would be the headlines for about a year at the least, but when his mouth was in perfect harmony with her own, she didn't care about anything other than her illicit werewolf lover.

Of course, she knew it was completely disgusting. Not to mention risky- if they got caught, not only would he be labeled as a werewolf nutcase, he'd also be labeled as a pedophile too. And she'd be rumored as a total slut around school.

Somehow, she still didn't care.

He found her sobbing in the corridors, after the Slytherin boys did the unspeakable to her. He gently took her in a classroom to calm her down without waking up the entire castle, and then somehow her lips pressed against his… somehow, she was now kissing her professor.

She didn't want to stop, and she felt a tugging sensation that neither did he. His arms wrapped around her waist protectively, and she tugged herself harder against his chest. It was wrong, she knew, as she stared into his deep brown eyes.

Somehow, she still didn't care.

Her father was locked up in Azkaban was she was three months old.

And yet she knew they were locking up the wrong man.

Her mother always told her he was a raving nut, and that he killed poor Peter Pettigrew and _13 muggles, _but she always knew that that wasn't true. Call it father-daughter sense if you will, she just _knew _it, and she wasn't sure if her Inner Eye was opening, like that weirdo of a Divination Professor had predicted, but she sensed he'd be breaking out of Azkaban soon.

She could help.

And she would, too. She had this whole image inside her head were she busted into his cell in Azkaban somehow, and he'd stare at her with a look of amazement and proudness and hug her in his warm arms, but somehow she doubted that'd happen anytime soon, because 1), she had no clue where Azkaban was, and 2), either the Ministry of Magic or the dementors would find her before she could reach her father's cell.

Still, it didn't hurt to be optimistic, right? And even though people would keep on calling him a murderer, she knew that _they _were the ones that were murdering: They were killing his own soul, bit by bit, until there would be nothing for the dementors to feast upon any longer.

**Hey, guys! I have to admit, the third one is kind of OC but it would take a dimwit not to figure already that the girl I was talking about was Sirius's Black's daughter, right? Right! Anyways, I'm really looking forward to seeing your reviews, and with that-**

**Loves, hugs, and all that jazz,**

**Lyricalyrics**


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